40 S Gl- 



THE GATE OF DREAMS 



rHE GATE OF DREAMS 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



By 

DION CLAYTON CALTHROP^ 



Copyright, 1914, by Samuel French, Limited 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 



' London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd 
26 Southampton Street 



28-30 WEST 38TH STREET STRAND 






The fee for each and every representation of this 
play by Amateurs is One Guinea, payable in advance 
to— 



Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 

26 Southampton Street, 

Strand, London. 

or their authorized representatives. 

No performance may be given unless a written per- 
mission has first been obtained. 

All the costumes, wigs, and properties used in the 
performance of plays contained in French's list may 
be hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. 
Charles H. Fox, Ltd., 27 Wellington Street, Strand, 
London. 



flMT t 

CI.D 37113 ^ 



THE GATE OF DREAMS 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 

By 

DION CLAYTON CALTHROP 

Produced in August, 191 1, at The Coliseum, London, by 
Norman McKinnel with the following cast: — , 

Penelope Lavendar .... 'Miss Hilda Trevclyan. 

Robert Shaw (her grandfather) . Mr. Ralph tfuttovi. 

Rose Shaw (her grandmother) . Miss Lilian Mdsoni 

Captain Vermeer (Southern Army) Mr'. Edmund Kennedy. 

Valentine Driscoll (Northern Mr. C. M. Hallard.'- 
Secret Service) 

Sergeant Bunbury .... Mr. Fred Hunter. 

Soldiers. An old nigger woman. 

The scene represents the Shaws' garden in the Southern 
States, 'at the commencement of the War between North and 
South America. 



THE GATE OF DREAMS 

// is a fine sunny afternoon in May, and the old garden 
is quiet and peaceful. On the right one sees a big 
openwork iron gate between red brick walls, the tops 
of which are covered with stone crop and wallflowers. 
An espalier fruit tree in full blossom is on the upper 
wall, at the foot of which is a bed of pink tulips. 
Over the tops of Hie walls big trees show on the right 
and left. 

Across the centre is a deep cut hedge, in the centre 
of which is an arbour with seats right in the shadow. 
Next to this arbour is an opening in the hedge 
through which one sees a level lawn and another trim 
hedge at the back. The hedge continues across the 
left and has a cut archway left (down stage) leading 
to the house. Under tin's is another neat bed of 
yellow tulips. And straight across the front of the 
stage are two circular beds, box edged, with young 
green sfioots coining up' cut of the earth. 

The backcloth shows a mass of fruit trees in bloom, 
and above thou a corner of a Georgian house, and 
above all a redbrick church with a white-faced sundial. 

As the curtain rises one sees Rose Shaw seated 
asleep on a garden chair. Her crochet work is in 
her lap and a work-basket is on a little wooden table 
by her side. 

The church clock chimes the hour, very slowly, and 
then strikes three (/clock. 

The old lady is dressed in the full skirt of I he sixties. 
made of deep lavender-coloured cotton. 



8 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

Just as the hour has struck one hears the voice of 
old Robert Shaw from the inner garden. 

Robert {calling out). Dash my wig — Dash my 
wig and whiskers ! Drat it ! 

(Mrs. Shaw wakes up and listens.) 

Dash my wig 

Rose (calling to him). Robert dear — Robert. 
Language ! 

(Enter Robert Shaw through the c. way. He is 
holding his right hand with his left, nursing it. He 
is dressed in nankeen trousers, a flowered waistcoat, 
and a big straw hat. He is in his shirt sleeves. — 
Quite an old man with a brown cheerful face, now 
twisted with pain.) 

Robert. My dear Rose, — my dear, — most un- 
foreseen— — Drat ! 

Rose. I'm quite in the dark, my dear Robert. 

Robert. So was the bee, my dear — so was this 
confounded bee. ... I was playing a little game of 
bowls by myself and inadvertently I placed my hand 
upon a ball that was already occupied by a bee. The 
result being — drat the thing ! — that I have lost my 
pipe, and I have lost my temper. I have only the 
satisfaction of knowing that the bee is no more — he 
has gone from us, but he has left a very painful 
memory behind. ... Drat the thing. 

Rose. The blue bag, my dear — my poor man — 
the blue bag, quickly. Go into the house and Penelope 
will apply the blue bag at once. . . . Always effi- 
cacious. 

Robert. Penelope. ... Is the dear child in 
the house ? 

Rose. Yes, you will find her making cakes in the 
kitchen. Hurry, Robert, before the poison has time 
to take effect. " 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

Robert {moving off a). Will some one kindly 
search for my pipe ? 
Rose. Yes, dear, yes. 

(Exit Robert.) 

(Rose takes up her work, beginning to count her stitches.) 

(At this moment one hears sharp military orders given 
from outside, r. // is Captain Vermeer speaking. 
Then a tramp of men. Rose looks up.) 

Vermeer (off). Halt ! Sergeant Bunbury, sur- 
round this garden. Send men back and front. 
Watch every entrance. . . . Waste no time. 

Rose (putting on her glasses). Most extraordinary. 

(Enter, through the iron gates, Captain Vermeer, 
dusty and hot, in the uniform of the South. After 
him a number of men who stand at attention.) 

(Vermeer salutes. Rose rises and bows.) 

Captain Vermeer. You must pardon me, madam, 
for this sudden intrusion on your quiet. There is a 
man here, a spy 

Rose. A spy ? 

Vermeer. Yes, madam, a spy. . . . You are 
doubtless aware that we are at war with the North. 

Rose. We have heard rumours. But this is a 
very isolated place. 

Vermeer. I am only here, madam, to carry out 
my orders. I am afraid I must ask you to allow my 
men to search your house and garden. 

Rose. Oh ! — but the house was only cleaned this 
morning. 

Vermeer. I fear me that you do not quite under- 
stand. . . . A spy, a Northerner, came through over 
lines last night, was seen, caught, but has escaped. . . . 
He has been tracked here. I am grieved, but 

Rose. No man has been here. 

Vermeer (turning to his men) . Through the garden 
and house — every room. Report to me here. If 
he shows fight get him alive if you can, if not 



]0 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

Rose. Sir, indeed I cannot have this — this un- 
warrantable intrusion. I am an old woman, sir, 
and I give you my word that no man has entered here. 

Vermeer. I am deeply grieved, but these are my 
orders. . . . March ! 

(The men disperse through the garden, leaving Rose 
and Vermeer alone.) 

Vermeer. Captain Vermeer — at your service. 
These things are bound to happen in war time, madam. 
Rose. I— I — oh ! it is too dreadful. 

(Penelope's voice is heard calling from the house.) 

Penelope. Granny — Granny, the cakes are fin- 
ished. 

Rose (to Vermeer). My grand-daughter. . . . 
It will shock her horribly. 

Penelope (calling). Granny 

(Enter Penelope through c. entrance. She stares 
at Vermeer, who salutes.) 

Rose. My pretty — oh, it is most terrible 

Penelope (eagerly). But soldiers — why soldiers ? 

Vermeer. I have been explaining to — to this 
lady. 

Penelope. Mrs. Shaw— my grandmother. 

Vermeer. To Mrs. Shaw — that we have traced 
a man to this village. We have searched all the 
village — except this house. 

Penelope. A man ? What sort of man ? 

Vermeer. You have heard that War has been 
declared ? 

Penelope. Oh, we are not so behindhand as all 
that. We heard yesterday. 

Vermeer. We have been righting for two months. 

Penelope. Then we are a little backward, aren't 
we ? 

Vermeer. I am afraid, ladies, that you do not 
realize the seriousness of the situation. Since we 
proclaimed our Confederation at Richmond, Virginia, 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. II 

the South as an united whole have been up in arms 
to uphold the honour and integrity of our States. Wc 
shall fight to the death. 

Rose. Terrible. Terrible. 

Vermeer. If we wish to have the right to live, 
madam, we must be ready to have the honour to die. 

Penelope. Oh, how splendid, Colonel. 

Vermeer (flattered). Captain only — Captain Ver- 
meer. 

Penelope. I am so sorry — I thought you must 
be a Colonel. 

Vermeer. I hope to be in time. . . . What's 
that ? 

(He draws his pistol.) 
(Enter Robert, his right hand bound up in a blue rag.) 

Robert. I don't know what the world's coming to 
— men all over my study — men in uniform in the 
kitchen — men in the dining-room — men in the 
drawing-room, in the drawing-room, Rose, actually 
— dusty, dishevelled 

Penelope. Grandfather- — this is Captain Ver- 
meer. 
. Robert. Perhaps you can explain 

Penelope (much elated). There is a war. . . * 
We are fighting for liberty. 

Robert! Tut-tut. I know that — but I've heard 
nothing of it lately. 

Vermeer. Let me explain, sir. A Northerner, 
a spy, has escaped. He was traced here. It is our 
duty to search for him. I am afraid you will find, 
sir, that as time goes on the whole country will be 
enveloped in this — unless we smash these brutes. 

Penelope. A spy ! — I had forgotten the spy. 
How splendid ! How plucky ! I hope you won't 
find him. . . . Anyhow you won't find him here. 
No man ever comes here, not even a spy. It is too 
dull. 



12 THE "GATE OF DREAMS. 

(The clock chimes the quarter.) 

Vermeer. It will not be dull for long, I think. 

Penelope. You don't know, Captain Vermeer, 
we have a capacity for dulness that amounts to 
genius. But this — this is an adventure. Tell us 
about him. Is he good-looking ? 

Rose. Penelope ! 

Penelope. Oh, Granny — I shouldn't mind if he 
squinted if he was only a stranger. This, sir, is 
really Sleepy Hollow. All our heroes are in books, 
none of them ever come here in flesh and blood. 

Rose. My dear Penelope, what dreadful language ! 

Penelope. I am sorry, Granny, but this is so 
exciting. . . . What does a spy do ? Have we 
any ? 

Vermeer. Certainly. Both sides have their 
Secret Service. Plucky fellows, but of course they 
carry their lives in their hands. 

It is not child's play — spying. 

Penelope. I can guess. I — I remember I have 
read in other wars what men did. Disguises, long 
nights in the open, danger, courage — wonderful 
great men. 

(Enter Sergeant Bunbury, followed by several men.) 

Vermeer. Well ? 

Sergeant. No trace, sir. 

Vermeer. No trace. — Annoying. Call the men 
back. 

(The Sergeant goes through the c. arch and is heard 
calling.) 

Sergeant. Fall in. 

(The men file through the garden and out of the iron 
gateway.) 

(Vermeer salutes and is about to go. Rose stops him.) 

Rose. I must beg your pardon. We are for- 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. 13 

getting ourselves. Penelope, my dear, the sherry 
wine and cake. 

Vermeer. Pray do not trouble. 

Rose. I could not let you leave my house without 
a glass of wine. 

Penelope (as she goes off). And I made the cakes 
— so vou — must stay. 

Robert (to Vermeer). You will observe, Captain 
Vermeer, that I am unable to shake you by the hand. 
I have had an unfortunate scene with a bee this very 
afternoon which has rendered me temporarily hors de 
combat — a military expression, I believe. 

Vermeer. An honourable wound, sir. 

Rose. We keep bees. 

Vermeer. Yes, yes — most interesting. 

(Enter Penelope with an old black woman Slave 
who carries a tray. This she places on the table 
t and exits.) 

Robert. Now, sir — a glass of wine. 

(He pours out two glasses and offers one to Vermeer, 
who takes it.) 

Rose (as Robert takes up his glass). Robert — • 
gout. 

Robert. I defy the enemy. . . . The South, sir. 

Vermeer. God for the right. 

Penelope. Cake — do soldiers eat cake- ? 

Vermeer. We take all the good things life has to 
offer. , 

Penelope. Oh, I wish I were a man ! 

Rose. I think, dear, you are rather over excited. 

(Vermeer puts down his glass.) 

Penelope. Over excited! Who wouldn't be 
to-day ? Soldiers — spies — war. Fancy real live 
things coming into sleepy, sleepy places like this 
garden ! It is like a little sunlight let into a prison. 



14 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

. . . There, Granny, I don't mean it, only sometimes 
■ — sometimes I wish I wasn't wrapped in cotton wool. 

Rose. My dear ! 

VermeEr. I must thank you for your kind 
hospitality. . . ■ Now I must ride on. We shall 
catch this fellow before long — he was spent as it was. 

Penelope {eagerly). And if vou catch him ? 

Vermeer (shrugs his shoulders). We — oh well, 
we have to do our duty. . . . Good-bye, ladies. 
Good-bye, sir. And, again, thank you. I hope my 
men haven't done any real damage. 

(He salutes and goes out by the iron gate.) 

Penelope. All my dreams go out by that gate. 

Rose. Most unmaidenly, Penelope. Now that 
that is over we can return to the peace and quiet of 
our ways. . . . By the way, my dear, was that the 
best sherry ? 

Penelope. The very best, Granny. 

Rose. He looked hungry, poor young man. I 
w r onder who darns his socks now. 

Penelope (with emphasis) . He smelt of gunpowder. 

Rose. I never knew you so imaginative before, 
child. . . . Young ladies should never have ima- 
ginations, they are so misleading. 

Robert. A fine young fellow. I should like to 
have shown him my melons. I think I will go and 
look at my melons, this sun should ripen anything. 

Penelope. Beware of the bees. They have stings 
like — like bayonets. 

Rose. Now, dear, no more dreaming. . . . You 
shall take away the cake and sherry while I go to 
attend to the ravages on my clean floors. Their feet 
were very dusty. 

(She moves away to left exit.) 

And, Penelope, after that I think you might lie 
down for a while. 

(Exit Rose.) 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. 15 

Robert. A wonderful woman, your grandmother. 
. . . There, my dear, quite a little excitement, but 
it is over now. 

(Exit Robert c.) 

Penelope. It is over now. Is that all I shall ever 
see of life ? 

(A bird sings. She moves to the tray. The clock 
strikes the half-hour.) 

(Enter, by the iron gate, a tattered figure of a Mam — 
a fine man, burnt with the sun, and dusty with hard 
travelling. His coat sleeve is torn, and his shirt 
soaked with blood. He sees Pen elope, and starts 
to go quietly away. Penelope turns.) 

Valentine. Keep quiet. ... Is any one here ? 
Have they gone ? 

Penelope. The soldiers ? 

Valentine. Yes, the soldiers. 

Penelope. I know who you are. The spy. 

Valentin]:. Yes, I'm the wild beast. . . . Here, 
quickly. Come here, I shan't hurt you. How long 
have they gone ? Long ? 

Penelope. A few moments. 

Valentine. What's that — cake ? 

(He moves quickly to the tray and begins to devour the 
cake. She pours out a glass of wine. He sits down 
by the table.) 

Penelope. What's your name ? 

Valentine. Do you want to know ? 

Penelope. Yes. Very much. 

Valentine. Valentine Driscoll. I shan't want 
it long — it will be forgotten. They don't afford 
tombstones for us, the ditch is good enough. . . . 
Get me a change of clothes, money, and more food. 
Can you ? 

Penelope. I don't know. . . . You are safe 
here for a little while. 



10 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

(He suddenly falls back in his chair.) 

Valentine (half dazed). A hundred and thirty 
miles. I killed the horse. 

Penelope. You — oh, you are splendid ! 
Valentine. There— what 

(His head drops.) 

Penelope. Oh, you are wounded ! 

Valentine. It's nothing, is it ? Some brute 
winged me — I think — I don't know. I'm numb all 
over. ... I'd forgotten places like this existed. 

(Penelope begins to tear the border from her petticoat.) 

Valentine. What are you doing ? 

Penelope. You are wounded. Please — your arm. 

(He looks stupidly at his arm and sees the blood on his 
shirt.) 

Valentine. That's nothing. . . . Get some 
clothes for me, like a good girl. . . . Anything. 

(She takes his arm and begins to bind it up.) 

You're very kind. . . . You realize who I am — 
I'm an enemy, you know. Ah ! It smarts. Fellow 
took a long shot. I expect they have tracked me by 
the blood, but I doubled. . . . What did they say ? 
Penelope. Thev searched the house and garden, 
and then they left. . . . There, is that more com- 
fortable ? 

(He stands up.) 

Valentine. Fine. . . . Can you get me some 
clothes ? The money doesn't matter so much. I 
must go. I must go. I'm all right now. You're a 
good girl. 

Penelope. I think you are wonderful. 

(One sees now that she has a long bright stain of blood 
on her dress.) 

Valentine. Oh no, I'm not wonderful. It's all 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. IT 

part of the job, my dear. Secret service isn't a bed 
of lilies. It generally means a ditch and thorns. 
I spent two days last week up to my neck in a river, 
not daring to move. Got off that time. Got off 
this time. Next time — well, one doesn't think about 
next time very much. Now, can you get me those 
things — something old. Who lives here ? 

Penelope. My grandparents and myself. I'm 
an orphan. 

Valentine. A coat of your grandfather's will 
do. I can hide about here, somewhere near the 
river. Then, to-night, a long, long ride. There, 
come closer. You're a nice girl, there's a kiss for 
your pains. . . . Now hurry up. 

(He kisses her, and she stands still, wondering.) 

Penelope. No one has ever kissed me before. 
Valentine. Do you like it ? 
Penelope. Don't. Don't. Don't spoil every- 
thing. . . . I'll see what I can get. 

(She moves away. As she does so one hears the tramp 
of men and a voice calling in the distance.) 

Valentine. God ! — what's that ? 

Penelope. The soldiers. . . . You must hide 
somewhere. Look — there ! The arbour. I'll send 
them away. . . . Quickly. Oh, quickly ! 

(He hurries to the arbour and goes inside. She dashes 
at her grandmother's work, lakes a chair to the arbour 
and sits down in front of it, and begins to crochet. 
One sees the long stain of blood quite clearly on her 
skirt.) 

(Enter the Captain and his men. He salutes Penelope.) 

Penelope. You are back again, Captain Vermeer. 
Vermeer. I am. . . . Sergeant— the garden 
and house as before. 

(The men divide and go out through both exits towards 
the house.) 



18 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

Penelope. Again ? 

Vermeer. The man is here. 

Penelope (laughing). How suspicious you are of 
us ! My grandmother will be really offended this 
time. 

(Vermbee is looking down at her dress, and moves quite 
close to her.) 

Vermeer. Miss Penelope — 

Penelope. Why do you look so stern ? 

Vermeer. There is a penalty for harbouring a spy. 

Penelope. So there ought to be. . . . We shan't 
have to suffer it. 

Vermeer. You tell me he is not here. I say he is. 

Penelope. Captain Vermeer 

Vermeer. You cannot deny it. 

(Penelope stands up across the front of the arbour.) 

Penelope. We gave you our word of honour 
before — I give it you again. No man is here, nor 
has any man been here since you came. 

Vermeer. You are playing with something very 
much larger and more dreadful than you understand. 

Penelope. My word of honour. Before — before 
God. 

(He points to her dress.) 

Penelope. You take my word — my word of 
honour ? 

Vermeer. Miss Penelope — I am very sorry. 
Look — 

(She looks dozen at her skirt and sees the blood.) 

Penelope. Blood — on my dress . . . I— I — I 
have cut my hand. It's an accident. It— — You 
must believe me. 

Vermeer. Come now, at once — where is he ? 

Penelope. He — he's gone. 

Vermeer. Then stand away from that arbour; 

Penelope. I will not. 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. 19 

Vermeer. Stand aside, now, at once. . . . 
Don't vou see what it means ? 

{He puts out his hand.) 

Penelope. Don't dare to touch me. You shan't. 
I stand here because I want to. If you were a 
gentleman you'd go. . . . I tell you he has gone 
— long ago. 

Vermeer. Move away — or I shall fire straight 
over your shoulder. 

(He takes out his pistol.) 

Penelope {starting forward). Don't do that. 
Vermeer. He is there, behind you. 

(Valentine pushes past Penelope and stands facing 
Vermeer. Penelope cries out.) 

Valentine. Captain Vermeer, at your service — 
Call your men. 

(Pen E lope goes down on her knees to the Captain.) 

Penelope. You shall not take him. You shan't 
take him awav from me. He's mine. He kissed me. 
I love him. I love him so— you mustn't take him 
awav. He is my husband in the sight of God. Oh, 
don't take him away. Captain Vermeer, he shan't 
fight any more, I'll promise vou that. I'll look after 
him. He is my man. 

Valentine. Hush, little girl, hush ! 

Penelope. He's brave, and strong, and alive. 
You shall not hurt him. I've waited for him for years 
— for my man. You shan't take him awav. _. . . 
Captain Vermeer, vou must listen. I love him— 
do Vou hear, I love him. He is all, all I've got. 
Don't hurt him. Give him to me. I'll give you 
anything, anything in the world I ran for him. . v 
You must see. You do see, don't you ? Oh, don't 
vou ? He is mine. You can't take awav what is 
mine. I want to nurse him. I will be your friend 
always. If vou— if vou But vou won't. What 



20 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

will you do with him ? If you make him a prisoner, 
make me one too. I'll go with him. 

Vermeer. Miss Penelope — my duty. 

Penelope. What do I care for your duty ? This 
is above duty. . . . Run, Valentine, run. I'll 
hold him. 

Valentine. Little girl, you don't know what you 
are saying. They don't make prisoners of us who are 
caught red-handed— there isn't time. 

Penelope. What do you mean ? 

Valentine (to Vermeer). Tell her. I can't. 

Vermeer. We have very strict orders, Miss 
Penelope. I am very, very sorry. 

(She rises and looks into his face, and reads the Death 
Sentence written there.) 

Penelope. You— you are going to shoot him ? 
Vermeer. Won't you go awav and leave us, Miss 
Penelope ? 

Penelope. Leave you — you murderer. You 
shall not shoot him — not while I'm alive. I hate 
you, and your duty, and your hardness. He came 
into my garden, into my life — and his life is mine. 
(She begins to plead with him.) You won't, will you ? 
Not this once. Nobody will know. We'll hide him 
here, till it is all over. It is only one life we have 
let us be happy. I never knew what love was 
before to-day, and now you want to take it away 
from me — -to break my heart. . . . You won't, will 
you? 

Vermeer. My men are here. 

Penelope. Tell them it is all a mistake. Tell 
them this is the wrong man. . . . What harm has he 
done ? What harm can he have done ? Valentine, 
speak to him. Do you understand ? 

Valentine. Captain Venueer, may I speak to 
you? 

Vermeer. Certainly. 

(They step aside.) 



THE GATE OF DREAMS. 21 

Valentine. What does it mean ? Outside. The 
wall. 

Vermeer. Those are my orders. ... I am 
sorry. 

Valentine. Oh, that's the fortune of War. . . . 
May I have five minutes ? I can't escape. 

Vermeer. Five minutes. 

Penelope. I can't bear it. . . . What are you 
saying ? 

(Vermeer goes off c.) 

Penelope. He has let you off. . . . Now let 
me tell you quickly. You don't think I'm mad, 
do you ? But I had to say — to say it then because 
I had no time to think — -and because it is true. 

Valentine. My dear, dear little girl. You must 
be brave. You have been wonderful. I'm not really 
much of a chap — -nothing of what you think me. 
But your sweet words are very dear to me. I never 
guessed when I came in here that I was walking into 
a garden of love, a garden where I, by accident, picked 
the first flower. I want you to know that— that 
you have made it easier for me to — to die. 
Penelope. To die ! 

Valentine. Yes. Don't cry. Don't think my 
life is of any value. 

Penelope. To me— to me 

Valentine. My dear, you don't know me. You 
have made my last moments all glorious by the light 
of your love. I love you, too, my dear, but it's too 
late. Don't cry, we must be brave, you and I. I 
am giving my life for my flag. I'm no use, dear — 
I never was. You don't know me. But if I'd been a 
better man, or a luckier man, we should have met, 
before. It is not Vermeer's fault— don't blame him. 
The boy has got to do his duty. . ■ • Listen to me, 
my pretty one— when you meet the real good man 
tell him a poor devil loved you once. Keep this for 
a memorv. 



22 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

(He kisses her as she lies in his arms.) 

Penelope. I always told myself that my man would 
come by that iron gate. He was a man of my dreams. 
It was you who came and took my heart at once. I've 
thought of all we would do, of our house, and our 
children, and the garden, and all. the things I should 
tell you in the evenings over the fire. And I told 
myself that we should be so happy, and not. like some 
married people always bickering, but always loving 
and gentle to each other. And in my dreams I used 
to watch that iron gate and stretch out my arms to it, 
longing and longing for the man who never came. 
And now Tell me it's not true. . . . He won't 

take you away. This is my harbour, here in your 
arms. Say it isn't true about — -about — your going 
away. 

Valentine. Perhaps I may be allowed to carry 
the memory of this peace, and this garden, and you, 
across the border. . . . There, my darling . . . 
there— — 

(He kisses her again, and before she is aware Vermeer 
appears at the c. opening.) 

Valentine. Ready. . . . Penelope, be strong. 
Vermeer. Sergeant — the men. 

(The men come through the garden and fall in to go out. 
by the iron gate. Penelope stands dazed Four men 
surround Valentine. 

As they march out a breeze blows on the fruit trees and 
covers Valentine with fallen blossom.) 

(Exit all, leaving Penelope alone.) 

(Enter, l., Rose ) 

Rose. My dear Penelope, no wonder you 

Penelope. Hush ! . . . 
Rose. My dear ! 
Penelope. Hush ! . . . 

(Enter Robert, c.) 



23 THE GATE OF DREAMS. 

Robert. A game of bowls, now it is all over. 
Penelope. Quiet ! quiet ! 

(Then one hears the orders from outside. " Ready- 
Present — Fire." 

The shots crash out. A branch of a fruit tree is snapped 
off and [alts into the garden. Blossom comes down 
everywhere.) 

Rose. Oh, what is that ? 
Penelope. It is my wedding bells. 

(Then the dock strikes four. And as the curtain 
slowly comes down, a bird begins to sing.) 



Curtain 



Butler c: Tar.r.cr Fromc and Lor-.:_'c 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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